


ჱ wandering eyes ჱ

by taylorwrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Bottom Castiel, Dating, Hurt Dean Winchester, Jealous Dean, Jealous Dean Winchester, Jealousy, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Dean, dating destiel, jealous!Dean, pre-established destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorwrites/pseuds/taylorwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas doesn’t get this whole boyfriend thing. Not that Dean would ever use that word. But when the angel gives a bartender the look one day, Dean decides it’s time to show those pretty baby blues where they belong. Features painfully raunchy bathroom sex and Jealous!Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ჱ wandering eyes ჱ

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-established Destiel, not set in any season but definitely before Castiel’s grace was taken from him?? Okay have fun. Also let me just reiterate that this is literally the raunchiest thing I have ever written oh my god I’m so sorry.

Okay, eyeing up the good-looking gal bending over the bar to pour a beer is  _Dean’s_ thing. It’s been his thing since he first entered one of these places. He hasn’t done it much—if it all—in a damned long time. In fact, he pretty much skims over the finely shaped females that flounce around in their low-cut tops, nonchalantly pushing their breasts forward in hopes that he’ll notice. Which he does, yeah, he isn’t blind. But it’s a quick glance, nothing more.

He’s sitting next to Cas, and is about to suggest they get out of here and go home already—the lack of intimacy here is just plain awful—when he notices it. Cas’s gaze travels up, down, and back again—all over the body of some fit twenty-something with platinum blonde hair, petite facial features, and a very loud voice. It makes Dean cringe when she nudges Cas’s shoulder with the tips her fingers, leaning in to ask if she can get  _them_  anything else, but by  _them,_ she really means the tall (ish), dark, handsome stranger she’s practically throwing herself at right now.

Dean’s eyes burn holes right through the both of them, getting harsher when Cas laughs at something she says, maintaining eye-contact and flashing that charming, toothy grin of his.

 _I’m gonna kill him,_  Dean thinks at first. But then, with a bit of strategical thinking, decides on a better plan…

This place is playing some vaguely sexy song, convincing everyone there to  compile in the middle of the dance floor and writhe against each other. Dean, personally, finds it a little ridiculous—they’re adults acting like they’ve just hit the legal drinking age. But it’s the perfect set up for his plot. He tosses a handful of crumpled bills onto the bar and stands up, chair screeching against the floor. That catches Cas’s attention, but that’s only the beginning. With a charming little smirk on his features, Dean finds the nearest dark-haired female. He’d go for a guy to really get Cas’s goat, but he’s still not entirely comfortable with the whole “bisexual” thing that’s been going on. She looks up, he smiles, and within seconds she’s got her dainty hands on his waist, shaking her ass amongst the rest of the twenty- to thirty-somethings. Dean can move alright, and he does. Goes all out. And fuck, he doesn’t even know why he’s acting like this, like some psycho girlfriend with a jealousy issue, but he’s doing it anyway. Winds a hair into the girl’s hair to bring her forward, their hips grazing against each other, her chest close to his own. He looks up and expects a heartbreaking gaze from Castiel, that pining look he knows all too well, but it winds up being he who gets the heartbreak.

Cas is dancing, too.

With the bartender…s.

Two of them, sandwiching the guy shamelessly. One’s touching his chest, the other’s got her grabby hands all over his shoulders and his back—that muscular back with the faintly wing-like indentations that Dean’s got memorized—and Dean instantly wonders how he ever called Cas a dork or a nerd or whatever. The guy can dance. Sure, not really that well, but he knows what he’s doing at least. He moves sluggishly, but the girls seem to find his slowed movements sexy, winding around him like snakes called by the Pied Piper. The girl that Dean’s got hanging all over him doesn’t notice his attention elsewhere. She probably just wants a warm body to press against. Like the warm body that Dean always presses against, the warm body that only he should ever get to touch. Just as he feels like he’s about to see red, a cool wave of blue hits him—Cas’s eyes. Bright as the sky, deeper than the Mariana’s Trench, they lock on his.

It’s a stare off, green on blue, jealousy on jealousy. Cas’s plump lips form a smug grin, and Dean doesn’t know if he wants to kiss those lips or slap them more right now. All he knows is that he really, really doesn’t like the look of this. It’s getting hot in here now, painfully so, and his want to make Cas jealous is the only thing keeping him from pushing the small body against him away. They’re just staring at each other as they dance, and when Cas puts his hands on the delicate curves of a bartender’s waist, Dean responds by giving a slow, firm roll of his hips up against the girl he’s—admittedly and shamefully—using.

Apparently, that’s the catalyst.

Cas stops everything that he’s doing, his eyes darkening like a tropical storm on the horizon. He mutters something quick and harsh to the girls that flank him, and turns on his heel towards the bathroom. Dean’s face falls, realizing he might have just gone a bit too far. He glances down, gives a quick but sincere apology to the pretty girl with eyes that he’s just noticed are Sammy’s favorite color, and follows Cas. He’s almost afraid that this is something they won’t come back from. That this—not Dean’s issues with intimacy, his fear of being out in public, or Cas’s restless sleeping habits—could end it all. 

He walks into the empty bathroom and sighs. “Ca—” he begins, but he’s silenced, shoved against the wall with enough force to bruise his back. Cas has his hands clamped over Dean’s mouth, and a weird sense of deja-vu hits him, but he doesn’t get a single second to contemplate why. Because soon, Cas is speaking in that husky, all-authority voice that always turns Dean on, makes his cock twitch painfully in his pants, and if he didn’t have a hard-on before, he’s certainly getting there.

"You are a child, Dean Winchester. Flaunting yourself all over the place—and to what? Get me jealous?" Cas barks a laugh, as if this is the most incredulous thing he’s ever heard. 

He removes his palm, and Dean glares. “You’re one to talk, flirting with that bartender. Maybe you’re more socially inept than I thought, but being  _with_ someone means keeping your fucking eyes on  _them._ ”

Cas raises his brows, and the anger softens just a bit. “I was not flirting with her. I was being friendly… forgive me if that’s crossing a boundary. I didn’t know I wasn’t permitted to look at people for extended periods of time,” he says, in a no-nonsense tone. And it hits Dean that yeah, Cas is probably telling the truth. The guy’s really not an asshole. But it still grinds his gears to see shit like that. Especially when he feels like Cas can find better, like someday he  _will_ find better.

So yeah, maybe he overreacted. 

But he won’t give in.

"Shoulda been keepin’ your eyes on  _me,”_ he growls, and with a quick movement, he’s the one that has Cas with his back to the cool tiled wall. “I’m the only one that gets to touch you, y’understand me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer—doesn’t need one. He simply slides down, crouching before Cas like a predator ready to strike. But he’d never hurt the angel (sure, he stabbed him  _once,_ but that was then). His hand grazes over the bulge between his legs, and Cas bites his lip, eyes starting to close in anticipation.

"Hey!" Dean snaps suddenly, giving a gentle squeeze and causing Cas’s eyes to flutter open. "Look at me." He wants Cas to watch every movement of nimble fingers as they unbutton and unzip his pants. Their eyes are locked the entire time, and it’s all sorts of weird and hot bundled together. Then Dean’s got his palm extended, pushing up against Cas’s lips, ordering him to lick it. Which the angel does, of course. Dean’s wet palm forms a gentle grip over Cas’s cock, starting with slow, languid movements that turn into fast strokes. Through it all, Cas keeps his eyes open, his breath heavy, his features flushed. 

"Dean—please—I need…" his words fade into a nonsensical moan that sounds something like  _ohyesDeanyesyesyes_ as Dean’s tongue slides over his shaft. When he makes his way to the tip, his mouth opens, allowing Cas’s cock to enter. It’s warm and wet, and Dean always does that thing Cas likes where he takes him in all the way, sucking a bit harder when his head bobs back to tip. He removes his mouth for a moment, rubbing the small bundle of nerves under the head.

He smiles, because he knows he’s got him. “Want me to fuck you, Cas?”

There’s no  _yes,_ just a moan.

"Come on, baby. Tell me what you want," Dean coaxes, using a flat palm to tease the hell out of the poor guy, smoothing it around his shaft, cupping his balls, sliding over his sharp hipbones. "Tell me you want me, no one else, and I’ll give it to you." He just needs to hear Cas say it, voice full of need and lust and that twinge of something called love. He might go mad if he doesn’t get it, just like Cas is  _going_ to go mad—no might about it—if Dean doesn’t take him, and soon. With the way his chest is rising and falling, a heart attack is on the rise if he’s not given what he wants. Cas was always so damn demanding, and Dean’s always found it so damn sexy.

"Only you—" the angel says quickly, his eyes burning holes into Dean. "I only want you, Dean. I want you to fuck me." If it were Dean, he’d be saying please already—but then again, he’s usually the submissive one. It’s weird taking charge, but the change is welcome. Needed.

He smiles and grabs Cas’s hand, jerking him into a bathroom stall and locking it quickly. It’s probably safer in there, anyway. “Good boy,” he whispers, sliding his pants down and grabbing his half-hard cock. He’s about to jerk himself to full hardness, but Cas is on his knees already. Whereas Dean’s a croucher, Cas always rests on his knees, as though worshiping whatever he touches. When his hand finds Dean’s cock, Dean almost protests. Cas takes his time when he jerks Dean off, and normally that’s welcome… but not today, not when he needs him so badly.

"Use your mouth," Dean whispers. He wants it to come out as an order, but his voice is nearly breaking. He’s dying to get inside of him. Only gets worse when Cas opens his mouth and takes all of him in, turning his head in this bizarre, twisting motions that feel like some kind of weird sex toy wrapped around his dick. He goes from 0-60 in no time, and almost over the limit. "Cas—stop," he whispers, when Cas’s mouth travels to his balls, tongue stroking over them in slow, patient motions. "Don’t wanna come just yet."

He pulls the angel up and kisses him, teeth digging into his lower lip. Cas growls, deepens the kiss, and reaches eager hands forward to unbutton Dean’s shirt. God, neither of them can get enough. For a while they just kiss and touch, but then Dean pushes his hips forward, and their naked cocks rub against each other. Dean always thought doing this would feel dirty, wrong, but the jolts of pleasure that fill him are too damned good.

"Needa be inside you," he whispers against his lover’s mouth, moaning softly at the feel of skin on skin. 

Cas nods and turns himself around, bending slightly to brace his hands on the wall. “I’m yours, Dean.” And nothing turns Dean on more than seeing Cas, half-naked and all ready for him like that. Waiting.

Dean bends down and places nearly-chaste kisses along Cas’s ass, nails scratching down his back to bring the perfect combination of gentle and rough. He pops a finger in his mouth, holds it there for a second, and then stares. This is it. They’re going to fuck in a bathroom stall.

 _Bucket list update,_ thinks Dean, as he slips one finger inside of Cas’s hole,  _check._

Cas moans and tightens around Dean’s finger, hips bucking backwards. Dean knows he can’t hurt Cas like this, so unlike any other lover, he doesn’t bother waiting before he’s got another finger inside. And then another. He’s mesmerized by the way Cas fucks himself back onto his hand, shamelessly moaning, his voice as loud as it can get because no one can hear them above the obnoxious music.

"Dean!" Cas yells, and Dean breaks out of his reverie, noticing that his angel has his hand on his own cock, jerking himself off in quick motions.

He takes that as his cue, fumbles around the floor for the pockets of his jeans. There’s a condom in his wallet, one that his shaking fingers take a bit of time to actually unwrap. With an almost reverent sigh, he rolls the condom on. He knows they’ve got nothing to worry about, but Cas likes to insist on Dean’s safety. It’s kinda cute, really. When all is said and done, he places the tip of his cock against Cas’s entrance. They’ve done it this way only a few times, and each one seems like a brand new experience. Like a fucking  _holy, sacred_ experience. He is fucking an angel, after all. Almost makes the sign of the cross every time he does. He wraps his hands around Cas’s hips, breathing in the smell of sweat and lust. “Ready?” he asks quietly. Cas nods eagerly, pushing his hips backwards, sucking in the head of Dean’s cock like it’s nothing.

"Ah—Cas!" He groans, eyes rolling back into his head as he sinks further in. He’s trying to take his time, for fuck’s sake, but it’s so hard with Cas panting and moaning right in front of him. "You like fucking yourself on my cock, don’t you?" Dean whispers. He loves dirty talk—receiving it, giving it. And Cas is surely pleased, nodding his head and moaning like the shameless creature he is. "You’d never have it this good with anybody else." He bends slightly at the waist, slowing his movements long enough to trace a line of kisses down Cas’s spine, which arches eagerly into his touch.

Cas is usually quiet, aside from faint moans and sighs of pleasure. But Dean… he needs to hear something right now.

"Say my name," he insists, his voice rough and grating. When Cas doesn’t respond immediately, Dean pulls out of him nearly all the way.

Cas whines, turns his head slightly. “Dean… Dean, please.”

The hunter smirks, grabbing his cock in one hand and rubbing it along the slit in Cas’s ass, knowing how much power he has over him, loving every minute of it. “Louder.”

“ _Dean._ " Cas doesn’t get this whole  _moan my name_ thing yet, apparently. So Dean just rolls his eyes, chuckles a little bit ( _how the hell can the guy be so cute when my dick was just inside of him?_  Dean wonders) and slams back into him, full force. There’s no noise of pain, just a faintly pleasured noise from Cas, and a louder one from Dean.

Dean, who reaches over to grab Cas’s dick in his hand. The angel’s back is against his chest, they’re close as two fucking people could possibly be—pun intended—and though it hasn’t been long at all, Dean’s close. So he wants to get Cas there, too. He jerks him off with unrestricted eagerness, having gotten so much better at this the more they practiced. He knows to go slow, not grip too hard, stay close to the tip—and when he rubs his thumb over it, and Castiel damn near shivers, he knows he’s doing something right.

Cas moans loudly, so Dean knows what’s coming next. Would know even if Cas didn’t announce, “I’m reaching climax, Dean,” seconds before sticky white liquid leaks over Dean’s fingers and onto the floor. They pause, and Dean lets Cas regain his breath for a few seconds before he’s thrusting again. He knows the angel doesn’t mind, of course. It’s not much longer after that he comes with a jerk and a grinding of his teeth. They stay like that for a short while, until Dean—germaphobe that he secretly is—grabs up toilet paper to clean up anything that happens to lingers. He’s gently wiping down his fingers when Cas kisses his neck, sighing into the crook of his shoulder.

"I am sorry if I upset you," he whispers, his voice tinged with shame and leftover lust.

"Yeah, well, I probably went a little crazy back there," Dean allows himself to admit, turning to smile at the angel as he jerks his boxers up, pants following suit. "I just… don’t like the idea of you with anyone else."

"That will never happen," Cas says honestly, placing his hand on Dean’s forearm, where a remnant of hell once lingered. "As I once marked you, you have marked me. For eternity."

As if he hadn’t just uttered a line straight out of a romance novel, he calmly turns and fixes his shirt, allowing Dean to bask in the sweet words uttered to him. He fixes himself, too, and steps out of the stall to make sure he doesn’t look like someone… well, fucked him in the bathroom stall.

Castiel’s still does, however, when they leave together holding hands. And Dean doesn’t bother pointing it, because the lingering stares no longer freak him out. They give the guy one hell of an ego boost.

Because hey, this is his fucking Cas.


End file.
